5o shades of green
by magik-blood
Summary: A socially troubled vlogger dives head first into the story that should make her career, the turtles cope with the clan, and everyone learns being an adult is hard. 2k14 movieverse. Raphril. Slight AprilxMikey. kinda au. Rated for: language, dark themes, & sexual situations. Apologies for dumb title.
1. i-knee socks

5o shades of green

* * *

><p><em>he wears the smell of blood and death like a perfume<br>there is fire in his eyes  
>and ice in his veins<br>but you love him anyway  
>for he is a star<br>burning with the light of a thousand suns  
>(and your world is dark without him)<br>.courfreyacc_

* * *

><p>Nine years of therapy, a crappy apartment, single as shit, and hardly the energy to make a cup of coffee. This might describe some hip young woman from a trendy TV show devoted to the deterioration of the mainstream idea of adulthood. Or, much more likely, the young woman half hanging out of her bed wishing there was an instant cure for a morning after drinking a box of wine alone. This young woman was April O'Neil.<p>

And, in her mumbled words, she was; "so fucking done."

She practically fell from bed emerging with the elegance of a bulldog placed on ice. Dawning an oversized sweatshirt and her dark red hair in a matted bun, she pulled on a pair of cheetah print pink fluffy slippers and slumped to her kitchen. It was Sunday morning.

She flippantly looked through her phone scoffing at a man's text that read:

**Anthony 8:46pm  
>Hey April, I can't make it tonight. Something urgent came up at the office. Know you'd understand x<strong>

She opened Facebook and felt a part of her soul die as the first post was about her close friend Grace and her new diamond ring followed by the caption; "I said yes… duh."

April turned away from her phone and stared disgustedly out the window to the city's skyline. It was always her dream to have an apartment of her own in the city. Even though she did share one at the moment with her roommate; a spacey girl she was somewhat friendly with named Taylor. The draw of the skyscrapers and lights had quickly lost its allure to April. The world had changed vastly since she left Manhattan at age thirteen. She supposed the quiet suburbs where she had spent her most recent years had somewhat made her forget everything that bothered her about city life.

"I should have bought a lottery ticket, yesterday," she sarcastically mused.

She smirked before turning to twitter and quickly posting the remark to her thousands of followers.

Sure. She ran a popular blog that touched on subjects ranging from the new Urban Decay eye shadow palette to the growing threat of that strange clan roaming the streets.

She also found success in her YouTube vlogs with a channel titled _Pretty Smart: A Beauty Guru with Brains.  
><em>  
>Maybe she sold out or maybe she lured in viewers with a tutorial on the OPI nail polish <em>Lincoln Park After Dark,<em> before fitting in a solid eight minute rebuttal on Councilman Dan Gregger's comment on how the Foot Clan is nothing more than exaggerated gang reports.

Either way, she made a living off it. And landing an internship at the channel 6 newsroom certainly helped matters.

Even though she fully realized she was at the bottom of the totem pole, it didn't stop her from chasing stories she knew mattered. Her blogs were often featured on the news site and made quite a splash among fellow newsmongers.

She was going to make it big as a television news reported. With Barbara Walters as her inspiration and Katie Couric as her long time #wcw, she knew success was on the horizon. It was only a matter of time until she found the story that escalated her into realms of reporter glory. She finally felt she was onto to something with this bizarre Foot Clan. The only problem was it wasn't yet getting the coverage she believed it deserved.

After brewing a cup of coffee and pouring the steaming liquid into a quirky mug depicting a turtle wearing wayfarer styled glasses, she was reminded of a much dreaded therapist meeting. Those never went so well after a disappointing boy situation. Those were always the sessions that brought up her father and her childhood. And, oddly enough, a bizarre obsession with turtles.

Suddenly, the low humming of her phone caught her attention. She groaned as Vernon's name and face popped into view. A coworker who, all be it creepy, was good for eventual networking. He was higher up than her at the office and had accompanied many big names into stardom. Having someone like that who (albeit occasionally) stared at her chest, seemed like an okay enough person to have. It was a small price to pay for the man who one day could be at her side on sight.

She slid the screen and answered with the illusion of being a non-hungover individual.

"Hey A-Dawg, wut up?" came his raspy voice.

Her free hand rubbed her forhead, "Oh just coming back from a jog. You?"

"Lucky. I'm at the office. Hey I just heard that Richard guy is having his 45th anniversary dinner party tonight. Would you happen to be free-zoes?"

She gawked in awe of the word _free-zoes_.

"N-" she resisted her gut instinct. _Network April._ She said to herself. _Network.  
><em>  
>"I would happen to be free, Vern... Actually. "<p>

"Awesome! Could I pick you up at six?"

She narrowed her brow, "should I- this isn't like a date, is it?"

"WhaAAT? No, no, no, Aprizzle. Date? Pfff!"

She blinked "Oh okay, I was just wondering…"

"I mean unless, idk you wanted it to go in that date-like direction, I wouldn't mind, come to think of i-"

"We can discuss the news on the Foot Clan, and that new victim. Get some work done," she spat out quickly trying to cover his awkward bumbles.

"Uh, sure. I guess."

"So six o'clock right? Okay, I'll be ready then. See you later, Vern."

He could hardly get out his goodbyes before she hung up on him.

She stared slack jarred to her phone.

"Well, shit."

* * *

><p>"The turtles are an –"<p>

"An urban legend told by boy scouts around the fire, I know. Besides, where did those boys even build the fire? Central Park? Is that legal?"

April knew the drill. She knew her therapist made her repeat the words daily. That _they_ weren't real. That her father never mutated baby turtles she named after Italian Renaissance artists. That her father wasn't even a scientist. That he was the manager at the Walgreens Pharmacy three blocks away.

That's the thing when you have a mental break in your teens, she realized, they all want a piece of your brain... And they want to know if your mother was a crazy bitch. Thank you Freud.

They wanted to know why. _Why_ did she have open conversations with an invisible turtle named Raphael? _Why_ did she wake up crying that the fire killed her father? That he was still alive? _That the turtles were still alive?_

And, when that infamous low-quality camera phone picture of a masked turtle-man wielding nunchucks made world wide news - a thirteen year old April was Instantly and forever changed. Even though it was widely passed off as a prank, she knew she was right. And it fucked her up bad.

When she turned sixteen, she learned how to tell people what they wanted to hear. Something she has been doing ever since. Sure, she no longer needed the help like the little girl with crippling social anxiety and a world inside her head did. She needed it like the twenty-two year old woman who thought it was a good idea to eat three day old Taco Bell.

"I'm sorry. I know of your previous sessions, in fact I'm sure you're aware of how infamous your case is among budding therapists."

"What?"

"Oh, you're completely textbook, girl. Big time."

April contorted he face in confusion as she sat across from the young doctor. She wasn't her usual therapist since Doctor Vale was out on maternity leave. She never did like this sub Doctor Gallway much. She was small, with bleached hair, dainty glasses, and always seemed to make a sour smirk like she had just sucked off a lemon.

Or, that's how April saw her anyways. The troubled young woman crossed her arms as she sat on the comfortable arm chair, her long hair needing to be washed as it still sat in the same bun from that morning.

"So slap me on the cover of 'Therapists-r-us'. Crazy turtle girl married in the sewers of New York to actual turtle. Witness to Harry, the guy who you yelled at for going through your garbage last night."

"And how would that make you feel? Would it give you some sense of contentment?"

April eyed the woman for a long moment.

"Yes."

Doctor Gallway smiled, "You always were a funny one."

"I thought I was the pretty one," April mockingly grumbled with a pout.

"So let's get back to this Vernon. If you wouldn't mind."

She looked over her shoulder, "He's a dong."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't know the guy's like forty-something. He obviously likes me and I'm wondering if I should just throw caution to the wind and date him. Give him a chance. Even though his name is Vernon."

"Maybe that's all anyone needs."

"That's what I gave to Anthony last night."

"From what we've discussed about that man I thought we came to conclusion he's at a different point in his life than you? And that you didn't make your feelings for him clear enough."

"So men presume they can stare at me as they please, flirt when it suits their mood, but never plan to take me out? To have a conversation with me?"

"Men think much differently than woman, you know."

"As much as I understand the logic... I was stood up and I still want to cry about it. A lot."

"A completely healthy and normal reaction."

"The two things I could only strive to be."

They both shared in a small laugh before Gallway glanced at her watch. Seeing that they only had a few more moments to spare, she gathered the courage to ask a burning question of hers.

"I- I know this isn't relevant of even, uh, very appropriate," she began carefully plucking her words, "but I've been dying to know- to ask…"

"Yes...?"

April's mind raced. Possible questions ran through her mind: _"Did you truly see your father burn before your eyes? Do you remember the names of the men from that night? Do you believe in aliens? Do you have many sexual fantasies about turtles?"_

Gallway bit her lip and adjusted her glasses before asking her question in a whisper.

"Is that your natural hair color?"


	2. ii-the bad thing

**A/N:** Hello! Thank you all for your support so far. It must be a record for so many alerts but so few reviews! Please feel free to leave any small comment. This is my first tmnt fic and I'm very paranoid that I will get the turtles out of character. Well… out of character to the realms of this fic, anyhow. Thanks again mah bros.

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><p>Raphael collapsed in the tunnels grasping his arm in pain.<p>

He muttered a string of salty words as he leaned against a cold concrete wall, the sound of his haggard breaths, and a dripping noise in the distance, echoed around him in the early morning sewer air.

_This is gonna hurt like an angry old viper bitch_, he thought to himself. He then took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and rammed his upper shoulder against the wall.

There was an alarming popping noise as he snapped his humerus bone back into his shoulder socket.

He threw his head back, howling a tortured cry that made his throat burn like hot black smoke had filled his lungs.

He clenched his eyes closed as involuntary tears streamed down his sweaty face. His hand shook as he reached into a pocket on his waistband producing a lighter and a beat up small white and tan box.

Jerking out a cigarette, he lit up and ashes flickered through the thick humid air.

_Well,_ he mused inwardly, _we all have our morning routines.  
><em>

* * *

><p>"A rash? How did you get a rash... There?"<p>

"Yeah bro, that's herpes."

"Uh yeah _bro_, cos he's obviously getting any."

"Well he does disappear into the tunnels for hours. Who knows what he's humpin' down there."

It was a conversation had over breakfast as Donatello mentioned Raphael's suspicious red splotch on his upper arm, Michelangelo threw out irrational suspicions, and Leonardo answered with logic.

Raphael (regretting his awkward excuse for the mark) practically threw himself at Michelangelo after his last comment.

"Shut up, shit for brains," he mumbled taking a seat across from his brothers.

"And where were you at practice this morning?" Inquired the eldest turtle giving Raphael a quizzical look over a steaming cup of tea.

"Are you really interrogating me? Am I sixteen again?"

"I didn't see you."

"Sensei's rule was twenty-one, you're free to have the Sunday morning practice anywhere you please. Not anywhere Leo can see you."

"Well you must have gotten a pretty early start. Would explain why I didn't see you last night either. You obviously went to bed early to get up around five today."

Raphael didn't like the patronizing tone of his brother's voice.

"Or," began Michelangelo, "he was too busy making sweet love to one of those giant rats—"

He was hardly able to get out his full sentence before Raphael reached over the table and grabbed the youngest turtle's neck.

Donatello was stuck between the two with an indifferent expression. He was always slightly surprised at the fact that the twenty-five year old still let the twenty-year old turtle-man-child get to him. A fact about himself he also found slightly surprising.

"Can I please have my tea in peace, guys?!" cried Leonardo as Michelangelo loudly gagged and fell backward. Raphael jumped over the table to continue with their mostly lighthearted wrestling match.

Donatello decided to ignore them and glanced back down to his reverse engineered, and badly cracked, iPad.

"More reports on those crazy Kill Bill heists."

Leonardo looked to him concerned as his four-eyed brother read an article aloud.

"A squad of Foot Clan Soldiers were spotted off the loading docks for Chemical Pioneer. They managed to make off with some delaminating agents, but that was all the information I was able to swindle out of the stubborn Pioneer manager. The men came wielding guns and threatened the use of bombs. They would have made off with more stolen chemicals if not for a suspicious... looming… woah."

"What?"

"Vigilante."

Leonardo placed his mug on the table, "shit."

"Yup."

Raphael had Michelangelo in a headlock as the younger of the two cried for mercy.

"I give, I give!"

"Watchet, before I put a crack in your shell."

"You watch it before I etch some more Japanese in yours! Like 'wide-load.'"

Raphael pushed him away before getting up.

Michelangelo grimaced as he saw his brother's agitated wound, "Ewww gross, man! You totally rubbed your rat herpes all over me!"

"Would it be on the news?" Asked Leonardo before yelling at Raphael to change it to channel 6.

"I don't think so. There are only a few news outlets reporting on it. They aren't even mainstream."

"That's bull. People need to know the threat. Something needs to be done."

Leonardo thought quietly for a moment, "Does it say anything else about the vigilante?"

"The gargantuan mysterious man seemed to have been carrying a large load on his back. Though, he did manage to move quickly and quietly for his bulky size. Who's to say this isn't another Clan member? Perhaps warning his members of the arrival of the NYPD? Or, possibly an agent sent out by the NYPD Itself? Maybe ties even the return of the fabled moth-man."

"Or, a mutant," he muttered.

Donatello decided not to comment. He wasn't one to place himself between a spat of Raph and Leo drama.

"But I don't understand. Why wouldn't it be on the news?"

"Well, for one, the police have no leads, five witnesses - who are too scared to come forward- and eighty-million people to answer to once the questions start."

Leonardo took a sip of his green tea, he shook his head deeply disturbed.

"Batman would have figured it out by now."

"Well get on it then, our one and only Mutant Prince of Gotham," Said Donatello before taking his iPad and cereal and retreating into his work den.

Michelangelo did a front flip onto the couch and watched mindlessly as Taylor Swift was being interviewed on a talk show.

Raphael ventured back into the kitchen as Leonardo watched him carefully.

"I don't care if you did some all nighter. The way things have been on those streets, I don't blame you. I can't sleep either. Just… Just let me know next time—"

"Don't worry. Okay? I got this."

"But I do worry. There's - god - who knows how many of them— "

"And there's three of me if I move fast enough."

"That's not the point, Raph. Your ego is gonna get you in a spot none of us can get you outta. "

"Don't you got some Gotham episodes to catch up on or sumthin'?"

Leonardo got up, "We meet at sun down -west tunnel. Don't sleep all day. "

Raphael saluted his eldest brother as he grabbed a poptart and sulked back to his room.

"Yo! Who cares if she isn't the best live singer?! Errgh, her dress size?! Don't answer his sexist questions, girl! No! Ugh!"

Michelangelo sprang up from the couch and dashed past his brother.

"What about you helping me with my shower leak—?"

"Sorry bro, someone made me upset about my wifey. You know the drill. Ten laps 'round the tunnels! See you in a few!"

Leonardo sighed sitting back down in silence.

"Wasn't making me a mutant enough of a punishment?"

* * *

><p>April practically had to pry her eyes open as Vernon went on about his new summer home in Connecticut. It also wasn't helping matters that they were sitting at a table for two inside a swanky restaurant.<p>

"I mean, I don't wanna brag but… Three sun rooms. Enough said, right?"

"_Mmm hmmm_," was her listless response.

"And, this obviously goes without saying, you're free to stop by whenever. I mean, I might as well get a key made for you!" He erupted in a fit of loud laughter. She did too though couldn't seem bothered to fake a smile.

"Vern, I'm sorry but I've just been thinking so much about the Foot Clan."

"Oh, of course. Everyone has," he said reaching for the bottle of champagne between them.

"Really? No one seems to be talking about it around the office."

He then took the liberty to top off her glass she had hardly touched.

"Yeah, well, it's a bit of a controversy at the moment- Hey! What are you doing after this, anyway?"

She blinked, "I – I don't… I thought you said this was for Richard? Where is he?"

"Who?"

"This. Richard's anniversary. Where the heck is he?" She asked looking around to see a room full of familiar news people faces.

"Oh, him! Oh yeah, he's here… Somewhere. He bought this whole room out for us so..." he said lifting his glass. "This one's for you, bud! Happy twenty-fifth."

"Forty-fifth," She quickly corrected him. He didn't hear her.

"So, princess intern, tell me more about yourself. "

"I was raised by circus clowns in 1918. "

"That's so interesting," he answered far too quickly. "Listen, I have to run to the little boys room. When I come back I suggest we take this little shindig back to the old Vern den."

She frowned, "your place?"

"I knew you'd be all in!" He winked to her before rushing off to the bathroom.

April quickly pulled out her phone and was able to rattle off about four quippy tweets before texting her roommate.

**April 7:24pm  
>He's spent an hour talking about his second home and asked if push up bras should be considered false advertising or not. And, he might have made a 9-11 joke. I think I've found the one.<strong>

Followed by:

_**Save me.**_

Just then, the check came, followed by Vernon.

"That bathroom was the second best place I have ever stood with my dick out is that the check?"

She gazed up to him in disbelieve.

"… Yeah."

"I - shit - I forgot. I have to make this call—"

"I'll pay for my food."

He stared to her, "Are you sure?"

She nodded.

"I mean… why don't we just split it? On me!"

"You mean pay for what we ate... separately?"

He snapped his fingers and pointed at her, "Bingo was his name-o!"

She smiled up to him blinking.

Just then, her phone rang, "Oh darn, I'll be right back I need to take this."

"Uh-oh! Plotting to get out of the bill! I know you women and your sly games!"

She got up forcing a smile his way, "Caught me!"

She retreated to an empty, dimly-lit section of the room in front what must have been a custodial closet. She then answered her call.

"Oh my friggin' god, Taylor. I can't believe him, he's acting crazy!"

"Uh... What?"

"Thank you so much for saving me. My text must have seemed pretty desp—"

"Your text? Oh sorry, I was just calling wondering where you are. You're missing Once Upon a Time."

April inwardly groaned hitting her head against the closet door.

"Okay well, incase you were wondering, my night is literally torturous hell."

"Wait, is this your date with that Victor guy?"

"Vernon. And not a date. I hate him."

"Just come home! Oh, and did you have a party last night of something? It's a mess and I found an empty box of wine… And all my frozen meals are gone."

"Kay bye see you soon!"

"There were like seven Healthy Ch—"

April ended the call and turned around to be face to face with Vernon.

"Shit!" she exclaimed placing a hand to her chest.

He casually leaned against the closet door, towering over her.

"Thought I'd find you here."

"Welp, you did watch me walk here."

"Haha, fair point."

She smiled, obviously uncomfortable. She tired to walk past him but he shifted so he was in her way. His face lowered an inch closer to hers.

"So I'll just call for cab and we'll be at my place in no time."

"Uh, on second thought, I've had such a long day. That jog really took it out of me…"

"But April, honey, it'll be relaxing," he said with his gravely voice somehow growing deeper, "you, me, some candles… Boyz 2 Men in the distance."

"Uh, I don't— "

"Or, I don't know," he said frustratingly spitting out words, "what do you youngsters get it on to these days? Molly Cyrus!"

"Get it on?!" She shrieked. "Now I'm just going to be very direct with you, Vernon. I only see us as work friends."

He stared to her lips as she tired to be stern.

"I had a good dinner and an enjoyable time… Eating food. But I want to go home now, I'll take the subway."

He reached out caressing her chin.

"You're so pretty when I make you nervous."

She swatted his hand away, "You're making me uncomfortable!"

He frowned and she tried to back away but he grabbed her arm strongly.

"I think you should come back with me and I will be persuaded to think about letting you on the team. In front of the camera."

She felt sick.

"Are you... serious?"

"Pretty sweet little deal isn't it?" He smirked glancing down between them. "I bet it's not the only sweet little thing between us."

He closed the last inch of space dividing them and pulled her to his chest.

She pushed away from him with all her might before giving him a venomous glare and slapping him hard across the face.

"_Prick!"_ She cried before running past him, grabbing her coat, and making her leave.

It was then that she noticed all eyes of the room were on her. She froze for a moment before smiling to the crowd.

"Aha... Happy twenty-fifth, Richard. Wherever you are, congrats!" She turned and walked past a judgmental matradee before quickly turning back around. "Forty-fifth! I meant... That. Bye-bye now."


	3. iii-do i wanna know

**A/N:** Thank you so much for the reviews. All questions will be answered shortly. I will say that this is a highly original take on how April meets the turtles and their relationship in general. Also, besides the bros themselves, I'm taking some real artistic liberties with these characters – yet – I'm trying my hardest to make them essentially the same at heart. Thanks again, and please continue to review!

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><p>April sat on the subway. High heels in hand, mascara smudged around her eyes, and only one thought circling her mind: "what would Anderson Cooper do?"<p>

The vlogger was ashamed, heart broken, and terrified. Her worst fear was once again confirmed: she was only a pretty face. Her looks had always been a burden. She felt as though her piercing eyes and sharp features again and again caused her more grief than anything else. She was beautiful. It pained those who got more than a passing glance or small amount of eye contact to notice: her looks could put a bust of some Egyptian queen to shame.

She never tried to conceal her effortless attributes, but she naturally didn't go out of her way to bring them out. She hardly wore makeup and often couldn't be bothered to do her hair or stick in contacts. She felt confident in her glasses and naturally tousled hair.

Tonight was a ware occasion where she saw it only fitting that she put her cosmetics she used for YouTube tutorials to use. Her eyes lined with velvet ink and her lips painted a reddish hue could have been enough to inspire a cover of Vogue. Although, now as she rocked back and forth on the subway her blown out hair had deflated and her eye makeup had smudged off. She was wrapped in a long black peacoat hiding her modest darkly colored dress.

She hated being seen for only her looks. And it wasn't easy. Women saw her stoic features and quiet personality as sings of a frigid bitch. Men were standoffish. And she swore she felt a great disappointment and uninterestedness in their voices when she spoke of anything other than sex.

Of course, she wasn't generalizing either gender. She had plenty of girlfriends who loved her as the true April.

But men, she wasn't ready to lift any stereotypes she had on that breed, tonight anyway.

She sighed looking to the few other occupants on the subway.

"Excuse me," she asked of an older woman a few seats away from her. "Do you happen to have the time?"

"Of course, dear. It's-"

She was just about to check her watch when the lights went out. They had just entered a tunnel and the train was cloaked in pitch black.

Rustling was heard followed by a few agonizing sharp gasps. April panicked searching the area as if she could see a thing.

She was only met with a bleak blackness and the sounds of thuds and moans.

Following a fight of flight response, she hit the floor and cowered under the seat.

She saw flashes of light, fading in and out, once they had emerged from the tunnel. She saw shadows swiftly moving past her.

Were they being mugged by a poltergeist?

With the flashing dull light streaming in from the outer subway walls, she caught a glimpse of a black shadow grabbing a passenger and quickly running him through with a long blade.

Her mouth fell open in horror of the sickening wet gurgling noise that emitted from the man's mouth.

She desperately tried to move further under the seat, as if somehow she could escape from the horror.

The subway emerged from the dark coming into the brightly lit station. Light streamed in and she searched the scene her wide-eyed.

Crimson smears and spatters patterned the walls and flooded the floor.

All passengers had been injured, and most were no longer groaning in pain.

"My god," she whispered before screaming in terror as a black-gloved pair of hands roughly grabbed her. She struggled against the assailant but was powerless as he grabbed her hair and pulled her into the light.

As she struggled with the man, another presented herself before her. A tall, lean, figure dressed in all back including a black plastic mask of a man's face was staring down to her.

Meanwhile, a third identically dressed figure grabbed her purse and rifled through her possessions.

"This time... blood was spilled... and your city will know what we are capable of," said the man before her as he pulled a katana from his belt.

Her head was jerked back.

_The clan_, she thought inwardly, _this has to be the Foot Clan.  
><em>  
>The soft flesh of her throat was exposed as the man in front of her began to raise his bloodied blade to her neck. She closed her eyes tightly crying for his mercy. If only she could see, there was a twisted smile under the mask as he brought the blade down. Just then, they heard a whistle. The weapon was stopped an inch before her skin.<p>

They looked back to the member who held her wallet. He raised up her company ID to the others.

"Channel 6 news."

The man in front of her glared down to the quivering young woman as he put his blade away.

"Hostage," he whispered.

* * *

><p>The subway came to its next stop and the awaiting crowd erupted in fear, pushing back, as the clan (that had grown to about 15 black figures) exited, dragging a gagged and bound April along with them.<p>

"Citizens!" Called the same man who had almost slit April's throat. "To the floor! Or we will blow this tunnel above ground!" He said as his men placed small box-like contraptions around the area.

The crowd quieted and lowered carefully to the floor.

April breathed heavily underneath the gag glaring daggers to the man who confronted the crowd.

"New York," He droned with a low laugh, "we are here! The Foot Clan is here!"

He glanced down to April who struggled against the man who held her back.

"She's a strong one, sir," he admitted, struggling with the woman.

The man looked to another member. With a small jerk of his head, the figure strolled over to her before producing a steel nightstick and knocking April hard to the side of her head. She instantly slumped forward as a stream of blood trickled down her cheek.

It was then that a nearby light burst, then another, and another, until the area was lit by sharp flickering lights.

The trapped people looked around confused, as did the Clan.

April's limp body was tossed carelessly to the ground.

"The vigilante," cried a Clan member.

"The dark's trickery," answered the lead man.

"NYPD!" Yelled an intimidating voice followed by an exuberant; "Cowabunga!"

An unseen force assaulted the Clan. They were plucked away one by one as nunchucks swung, ninja stars flew, and blades thrashed. Member of the Foot Clan were quickly tied up and thrown to the side.

The crowd had dispersed in a frenzied mass exodus heading for the streets above.

Donatello grabbed a bomb from the wall and quickly defused it from the shadows.

"Leave the girl!" Called the leader to another member before slipping away as the others were captured.

Soon, the scene quieted and the brothers were left standing before rows of tired up black clad men.

"Are the surveillance cameras out, Donnie?" questioned Leonardo.

"We're in the clear."

Raphael looked over the tied up unconscious figures.

"This is the Clan? Looks like a buncha punks trick or treating."

He plucked a mask off one face revealing a young white male.

"What a fucking joke."

Leonardo surveyed the area before his eye landed on an out of place shadow.

"Oh, shit."

The others followed his gaze and soon saw April sprawled on the floor.

They stood in silence knowing an inevitable argument was coming.

Raphael looked back at Leonardo.

"_Well?" _he asked as if his brother should have already barked orders.

"Well, _what?!"_

"Are we going to address the roofie'd chick passed out like we're at some frat party?"

"The police will be here any minute, Raph," Leo concluded, "We'll leave her to them!"

"We don't know that!" He answered. "And some got away! They could be comin' back!"

"We don't have time for this!" Said Leonardo walking away.

"Then do something now!" Retorted Raphael.

"I am," he answered coldly.

The other brothers looked between the two torn.

Raphael seemed to take a deep breath before running back to April and lifting her lithe body into his arms. He turned back to his brothers who stared on dumb founded

"_Dude_," concluded Michelangelo.

"Oh c'mon!" Cried Leonardo exasperated watching Raphael dash past him as the others quickly followed. Raphael tossed April over his shoulder as he looked back to Leonardo.

It wasn't a look he often saw from the hard-scaled turtle. He seemed scared, unsure, and sincerely concerned. He realized he wasn't saving her to be a hero. He was doing it simply because it was right, and it terrified him.

Leonardo blinked before running topside with his brothers.

* * *

><p>The boys gathered around as Raphael laid April gently before them on a worn-in couch in their living room lair.<p>

Leonardo knelt beside her cutting away her gag and freeing her arms.

"Is she- y'know breathing?" Asked Michelangelo just as Donatello dropped to his knees and hovered an ear above her chest, then her mouth.

"Okayyy," stated Michelangelo perturbed, "next time, I call dibs."

"She's breathing. She's alive, but it looks like she took a hard knock to the head. I'll need the disinfectant and gauze.

Michelangelo jumped to the order as Leonardo and Raphael looked on somberly.

"Well, what do we do with her?" asked Leonardo.

Raphael's eyes fell over her body.

"She ain't even wearin' shoes."

Leonardo raised a hand to his head, "Let me just think this over for a second…"

The boys watched as he paced. Raphael crossed his arms and glared at Leonardo. Donatello knelt besides April taking her wrist in his hand and recording her heartbeat. Michelangelo quickly returned and found himself struck by her looks as his brother raised her head to get a better look at her wound. The youngest turtle deliberated inwardly if she was truly more beautiful than Taylor Swift.

"Did we even bother to think why she was being kidnapped by those foot people?" spat Leonardo. "I mean- what if she's a ploy? Some spy to find our location?"

"Is that why they beat her over the head? Well, that makes perfect sense then!" quipped Raphael.

Donatello's eyes nervously flickered to her face, and he regarded her for the first time. He frowned staring intently.

"Woah, guys! Leo!"

"What?!"

"This is April O'Neil!"

"Who?!" they asked in unison.

"Leo, she wrote that article I was reading this morning. She's one of the only people reporting on the Foot Clan. That's why she was their next hostage - or it could be why. I mean, just working for the news is probably enough."

"Wow, beauty and brains," crooned Michelangelo, "I might be in love."

"A _news reporter_?!" Cried Leonardo. "We have to bring her back now!"

The turtles protested. Donatello with logic, Raphael with sarcastic anger, and Michelangelo with love struck reasoning.

"Leo, she's knocked out."

"Which dumpster do you suggest we toss her in?"

"Are you guys even seeing what I'm seeing? A beautiful woman on our couch?!"

"Will you grow up, fuckboy?" cursed Raphael to the dazed young turtle.

April blinked open her eyes to find herself in the middle of an escalating fight.

"Well, It's a great time for you to grow a bleeding heart!" came Leonardo eyeing the turtle in red. Raphael faced him, his eyes becoming slits.

"And what is that s'posed to mean?"

"Your heart's gushing like her forehead."

"And you'd rather just have the blood of the innocent stain your shell?"

"You know damn well that's not with this's about."

The brothers were practically butting foreheads before Michelangelo sprung between them.

"You guys can't leave my future girlfriend out there like this!"

"Shut up, Mikey!" Cried the boys as one before April shot up from the couch.

She sat up still reeling from the head injury. She had expected to see homeless men fighting over who would drag her back to their newspaper tent when, instead, she was met with four mutant turtles looking blankly down to her.

She leapt back onto the couch as she was jolted into foggy reality.

"Ah crap," muttered Leonardo.

She screamed looking at their nonhuman faces, green skin, and visible weapons.

"Shhh! April, we won't hurt you! You're okay!" Leonardo said in a calm voice slowly stepping forward, his arms extended to her.

She stood up on the couch, climbing the back, and still screeching in pure horror.

"Shoulda kept the gag on her," mumbled Raphael.

"What are you? Where am I? What's going on?"

"April, you've been rescued from the Foot Clan. By us. We're... um..."

"Mutant turtles," spat Raphael.

April blinked glancing over their faces.

_No. They aren't real. They can't be real._

She couldn't seem to catch her breath as she stood on the couch.

"Mutant... Turtles..." she repeated in just above a whisper.

Donatello pushed his glasses over his nose as he worriedly observed her, "She needs to regulate her breathing or she's gonna-"

April fainted falling behind the couch.

"Gonna faint?" Asked Leonardo.


End file.
